


To dwell in place of the breed-heir

by Arabwel



Series: Arrangements and Affiliations [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent Lives, Alpha Chris, Alpha Scott McCall, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Ancient treaties are a bitch, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Biting, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Dom/sub Undertones, Due to an arranged mating situation, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Peter Hale/Melissa McCall implied, Multi, Omega Isaac, Or maybe petopher if you have your goggles on, Polyamory, Rimming, Scent Marking, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Oni maim Allison Argent, by ancient tradition the pack owes the Argents an omega. </p><p>But Scott won't let him go into the lion's den alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To dwell in place of the breed-heir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Misharousing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misharousing/gifts).



> This is an a/b/o fic with the inherent consent issues of heat sex, with added forced mating due to an ancient treaty so please proceed with caution. More detailed description of issues in the end note. 
> 
> Many thanks to Tabris & All my other wonderful folks who looked this over!

Everything is a blur. 

They save Stiles. 

Allison lives - barely. 

Scott can’t help it, he eavesdrops on Mr. Argent and Dr. Geyer. He doesn’t mean to, he’s two doors away but his werewolf hearing doesn't let him tune out, doesn’t let him stop listening to Allison’s faint heartbeat - or the conversation at her bedside. 

Geyer’s voice is calm when he lists the extensive damage she suffered, some of it permanent. _If_ she wakes up, there will be complications, and even under best case scenario she will never have children. Scott hates how he makes it sound like they should just pull the plug on her; after all what use is an omega who can’t breed? 

He tries to tune out the words, Mr. Argent’s gruff acknowledgement, the weary, steady beat of his heart out of synch with Allison’s. He tries to tune out how the doctor mentions casually that Chris has options. 

All he wants to hear is Allison’s heartbeat. 

Beside him, Isaac whines, high and thin, and Scott squeezes his hand. 

**

It is well past midnight when Chris leaves the hospital. He walks slowly, still in a daze, grief and gratitude churning through his weary body. All he wants to do is sleep, to pass out in the plastic chair next to Allison’s bed, holding onto her pale, bow-calloused hand.

But he doesn’t get what he wants. He never has. 

There is someone waiting for him at his SUV. 

“Hale.”

“Argent.” Peter Hale acknowledge him, almost cordially. “She lives, then.”

“Yes.” The _but not whole_ unspoken. It should gall him, that of all the people it’s _Peter Hale_ who understands. They will be moving Allison to the same hospital where Peter spent six years trapped inside his own head in the morning. 

The werewolf holds out a hand. “Give me your keys. I’m driving you home.” 

It speaks volumes about Chris’ state of mind that he complies, digging the keys from the pocket of his jeans without a word. 

He doesn’t want to talk. He especially does not want to talk about - 

“So, when are you taking the boy?” 

Chris closes his eyes and leans his head back against the leather headrest. There’s a pounding at his temples, a deep ache in his bones. 

“I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t have to see it to know Hale sneers at him. “So you would doom us all because, what, you can’t get it up any more? Maybe we should tart him up? If we shear his hair and dye it red, adorn him with chains and baubles- “ 

“Shut up.” Even the anger welling up inside Chris is dull, as dull as the ache as the memory of Victoria brings. It should be appalling, everything Hale has said, but the bone-deep weariness doesn’t budge. “Just… shut up.” 

“You know it is inevitable. Better get it over quickly.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Oh, trust me, Argent, no one is going to like it. Least of all, the boy.” There is an anger in Hale’s voice, one that should raise Chris’ hackles, the potential challenge from another alpha egging him on. 

“I didn’t write the rules. If there was another way…” 

“I could always kill you right now. “ And Chris realizes belatedly they're going well past the speed limit, the rumble of the engine edging into a roar. Instantly, Chris knows what Peter is thinking about. 

A werewolf would likely walk away from a crash. Human, not so much. 

“You’d leave Allison to wake up alone?” 

Peter laughs, sharp and brittle. 

Chris can hear the steering wheel crack, adrenaline flooding his system. He opens his eyes and sees they are on the back roads, nowhere near the actual route from the hospital to his house. 

Peter Hale is staring straight ahead, eyes still human-blue, and not unearthly, and Chris knows he has the wolf. It’s an unsettling knowledge, that the wolf would not wish to put anyone, even an Argent - albeit one not directly involved with the fire - through the same abandonment that had cost him both what was left of his sanity and his niece.  
It’s not like Chris can judge, much. He’s the one who cut Laura’s dead body in half and used her as bait. The blood on their hands is no base for camaraderie, and yet here they are, the car taking another bend at slightly less breakneck speed. 

They do not speak again until the car pulls up to the building. 

“Will you make the arrangements?” 

“Who else? My nephew is clueless, and young Mr. McCall even more so. He _will_ honor the ways, however. I will see to that.” 

Chris nodded stiffly. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me, Argent.”

****

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles is the one who speaks up first, voice ringing with anger and disbelief. 

Isaac doesn’t look at him; he can’t tear his eyes away from the smirking Alpha. 

Peter cocks his head before he speaks again. “Why would I do that, Stiles?”

“Because you’re an asshole who enjoys petty cruelty! That’s why, asshole.”

“How repetitive. No insults to my parentage? What about my sexual proclivities?”

Isaac tunes out the bickering and closes his eyes. What Peter said before Stiles broke the silence weighs heavy on him, like his lungs are full of lead. 

_We took their heir. We owe recompense, else they - and by they I mean hunters at large, not Argent - have the full right to put us all down._

_We owe them an unbred omega._

“There has to be something we can do,” Scott says plaintively, tightening his grip on Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac fights the urge to lean into the Alpha’s touch but he can’t help it; he leans back into Scott, letting the Alpha’s scent and warmth surround him. He had almost dared to hope but the sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach tells him, he doesn’t get to have good things. 

“What if we were mated?” Scott’s voice is filled with hope and his grip of Isaac tightens a fraction, one strong arm coming to wrap around the omega’s waist. 

Peter shakes his head. “Then he’d have claim to the both of you, since we do not have any unmated omegas who have not borne children in the pack: So, unless you want to find another omega to bite and claim for the pack, and to arrange them to be your sacrificial lamb instead…?” Peter’s eyes are cold when he speaks. “It has been done, before. It is within the rules.” 

The way he puts it, it sounds like something even _Peter_ finds distasteful. No wonder the idea makes Isaac shudder, too. 

Scott growls, deep and possessive. “No. We’ll figure out - something.” 

Isaac blinks slowly. It could be worse. It’s easier if they just get over it and stop trying to delay the inevitable. They wouldn’t be here if not for him. Allison would still be awake, be whole if he hadn’t - 

It still hurts to shrug off Scott’s grip, to take a step aside. “I’ll do it.” he can’t look up, can’t look Scott in the eye. “Not like he’s gonna lock me in a freezer.” He shrugs, almost casual. “Bad for breeding.” 

“Then I will go with you!” 

**

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. It feels like the headache is never going to end. He’s spent hours at the hospital, just sitting by Allison’s bedside, listening to the steady beep of the monitors and her thready breath. Trying to not to think about how cool her skin was under his touch, the stillness in her body. 

If he still knew how to pray, he doesn’t know if he’d pray for her to wake up or to sleep until all of this is over. Until he’s had the wergild from the wolves and - well. Chris is not the kind of man who would separate an omega from it’s babe, but he also has no illusions that Isaac would wish to stick around once his duty was done. McCall would be pining after him every step of the way, no doubt, and the thought he'd have to fend off an inevitable challenge from another alpha - this one, a werewolf - was not a pleasant one. 

“Penny for your thoughts, Argent?” 

“How long I will have to wait before McCall issues a challenge?” he admits to Hale without preamble. The _and screws up the whole reconciliation_ unsaid. 

Hale smiles, slow and satisfied like the cat who got both the canary and the cream delivered to his doorstep. “Oh, didn’t you know? McCall is offering himself up as well.” 

Chris blinks. “He - does he have any idea what he is doing?” 

“He doesn’t want to abandon Isaac. How noble of him. And sensible - it is not like the rest of those he acknowledges as _his_ are wolves, so there is no pack dissolution or succession to consider.” Hale’s words are almost glib. 

Chris almost wonders, what about Derek, but he knows the familial bond the young wolf has with his uncle will keep him from going off the rails. After all, neither one of them acknowledges it, but Chris is well aware of the power Peter regained from Blake. 

“What about Melissa?” he asks instead. She’s an omega, and with Scott leaving her household, people will talk. A lone omega with no familial Alpha will set tongues wagging even in this day and age, and he is certain Scott would want to protect her from any ill consequences. There were other be options, of course, but he finds the idea of bringing both the boy and his mother to his house distasteful. 

Hale’s grin is diabolical. “She is amenable to an arrangement of convenience.”

“With _you._ ”

“With me.” Hale’s voice is so full of satisfaction, Chris’ hands itch with the urge to shut him up, to wipe the smirk off his face. He looks supremely unconcerned, even as he continues. “In time, she might even be.. _amenable_ to something more.” 

Chris shakes his head. “If she is, good for you. If she is not…” he doesn’t have to elaborate.

“Please. Like I would do anything untoward.” The _with my sanity intact_ stays unsaid. 

Chris should be worried about how easily they get along, about having a wolf in his house. But he needs to get used to wolves in his house, doesn’t he? Soon, both Isaac and Scott will be skulking around, trying to fit themselves in; they’re just lucky he’s dismissed most of his hunters. 

With a deep sigh, Chris takes another sip of the expensive whiskey the wolf brought along with the news of Scott’s decision. It’s a harkening to the old days, a gesture Chris appreciates as the smooth burn leaves behind a soothing warmth. 

“Even so, logistics are going to be a bitch.”

Hale smiles slowly. “That’s what I am here for, Argent.” 

****

Peter says there are traditions they should be following. Gifts they should be bringing. Words that should be spoken. After all, it is tradition that brings them here, old treaties, old laws. 

All Isaac has is a backpack that’s seen better days and he’s not feeling particularly chatty. Well, the backpack and Scott, standing resolute right next to him. 

He wishes he was alone. That Scott didn’t feel the need to drag himself into this. It’s his fault, anyway - Allison was cut down trying to save him, not Scott. And he can take it. Whatever Argent has to throw at him, it can’t be worse than - can’t be worse than the freezer. Or the belt. Or his heats, spent in the freezer. 

It’s as if Scott can read his mind; he reaches out to touch Isaac, to pull his head down so they’re eye to eye. 

“Hey it’s okay,” Scott says softly. “I won’t - he won’t hurt you.” 

Isaac’s breath catches in his throat and he knows he’s blinking, knows there’s a part of him that wants to cry. Because he _believes_ Scott, believes the alpha, _his_ alpha would put himself between Isaac and Mr. Argent in a blink. Has already, in some convoluted wolf politics maneuver. 

Hunters have politics and traditions, too. That is why they’re here, now, having shown up at midnight on a new moon, to be met by a tired Mr. Argent who brought them in and told them to rest. Brought them here, to this room, where they are sitting on the soft duvet that still smells of Allison. Some of her things have been boxed, a space made in the wardrobe but none of it makes it better. Makes it feel any less like a sacrilege. 

Isaac blinks again and then he’s crying, curled up against Scott’s chest, wetting the alpha’s shirt with hot tears and snot. He hates how weak he is being, how he’s dragging Scott along. 

“You shouldn't have,” he whispers, “I can take it.” It probably wouldn't even be too bad. Mr. Argent is hot, for an older guy. He could just close his eyes and think of - 

“I’m not letting anyone hurt you.” 

***

Scott knows his words are not really getting through to Isaac, but the omega quiets slowly and Scott thinks he might have fallen asleep, cradled in Scott’s arms. The fabric of his shirt is damp and sticky, rubbing uncomfortably but Scott is not going to move, not going to disturb Isaac. 

He shifts, lifting his head and he can feel his eyes flash red. He should be the one paying the price for Allison. He’s the one to blame for was happened to her, but he can’t take her place. can’t take Isaac’s place as - as a wergild. He’s an alpha, manifested as one early, well before Stiles showed his beta parents bred true. Even before, when he was still a beta on wolf terms, almost an omega, he would not have been able to do what Isaac can, what Allison could have before the Oni. 

Scott knows what Isaac’s dad did to him, how it got... worse, after his mom left, after Camden. And he is not going to let Mr. Argent take out his grief on Isaac. He’ll - 

Scott doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t even know if Mr. Argent is into alphas, if what people will say now that Scott’s moved in about him going Greek is true. At the same time he knows no one bats an eyelash at Isaac, how it’s just so normal for an omega with no family to move into the house of an alpha old enough to be his - 

Harley would have so much to say about it, he thinks. He hasn’t seen her in forever, and he doesn’t think he will, either. Part of him wonders if Mr. Argent will let them finish school, go to college. Or if he just wants the exact letter of the agreement. 

Peter had told them Argent wasn’t vengeful. That he was not out for his pound of flesh, but that he couldn’t get out of this tradition, either. And both Derek and Deaton say Peter is right, that he’s not exaggerating any of this for his own gain. What would he gain from this? Scott’s pack won’t become his magically, just because Peter is the one wolf Alpha in vicinity. He even offered to fake-date Scott’s mom to keep people from talking after Scott moves out. 

Scott’s pretty sure his mom said no. Hopefully. 

Isaac twitches and Scott tightens his hold. He is thinking too much, they should - they should lay down and go to sleep. 

In Allison’s bed. 

*****

The boys are curled up together on the floor when Chris walks in. They both look up, blinking away sleep from heavy eyes. 

In the light of the early morning, they look vulnerable and innocent, but not like children. That, at least, is in Chris’ favor. Taking in Isaac's pale skin stretched over long limbs and Scott’s soft, plush mouth, he thinks he might be able to do this without forcing himself to close his eyes and think of - someone more suitable. He’d never disgrace the memory of his wife. 

He knows they still have time. Isaac won’t have a heat for a little while longer barring being hastened by proximity to not one but two alphas on a regular basis. He would prefer to take the boy before the heat, though, to make it less... overwhelming for all parties involved. If Isaac were in heat, it might trigger a rut in both himself and Scott, which could have unfortunate consequences. He’d rather not have to lock the young alpha up for the duration of Isaac’s heat, but he would if necessary. Even though it would be beyond cruel to take Isaac with Scott forced to watch while trapped in a rut, as he’d chosen to hand himself over alongside Isaac, he would have to be present. 

There is a part of him that would not object to Scott - participating. He’s rutted with his share of other alphas over the years, the understanding that what happened on hunts had no bearing to what happens at home clear and strong between him and Victoria. And now that he’s allowing, he’s making himself to think about it, well… 

Chris would not mind putting his mouth on the strip of skin that’s exposed when Scott yawns, his shirt riding high. Not at all. 

He knows youth and werewolf constitution has protected both boys from the ills of sleeping on the floor for a night, but this is not a sustainable situation.

But neither can he make himself strip the bed. 

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen;” he says, more gruff than intended. Isaac flinches, and for a moment there is a standstill - Scott stiffens, like he doesn’t know why, and Isaac’s eyes flick down to the floor, like he’s expecting, well, like he’s expecting to be hit, only Chris can’t parse why he’d think - 

It hits him, then, and it makes him feel queasy. “We will discuss the.. extent of your duties later.” 

With that, Chris turns on his heel and retreats into his office, all appetite gone. 

*****

Scott didn’t know what he expected to find in the kitchen, but he’s pretty sure that two plates wrapped in tin foil with thick Spanish omelettes full of potatoes and ham is not it. There’s a bowl of fruit, too, washed and cut, and a jug of orange juice. 

“Huh.” Isaac says softly, almost fearfully as he takes it all in. “He’s certainly got standards.”

Scott reaches out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “At least the napkins aren’t the real cloth ones?” He says, as he pulls up a chair at the breakfast bar. He’s ravenous, not having eaten the night before, stomach in knots with anticipation. He knows Isaac is much the same and they both dig in with gusto. 

There is a third place setting, but Mr. Argent doesn’t join them. Isaac’s eyes keep flitting to the door, even though they both know they should be able to hear him if he heads over. 

“So what do you think he meant by extent?” Scott finally asks as he drains the last dregs of his juice and sets the glass down with a clink against the marble top. 

Isaac shrugs, a look of resignation on his face. “Probably how often he’ll want me to bend over in between scrubbing bloodstains from his shirts.” 

The way Isaac says it makes Scott literally see red. He’s lucky he’s not holding the glass any more, because they'd be scrubbing blood off the countertop. It’s not fair that Isaac is so resigned, that he thinks it won’t be too bad, that any of this is gonna be okay. That Isaac doesn’t think that - that being sold off, whored out to save them all doesn’t _matter._

It’s only when Isaac’s mouth falls open but no words come out he realizes he’s said that out loud, that he’s practically shouting. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I…”

“I would appreciate it if you kept your voice down, Scott,” Mr. Argent’s voice surprises him. 

Scott moves to face him, to put himself between Argent and Isaac. He bristles, thinking that if Stiles was here he’d snap off some comment about how he would appreciate Mr. Argent _not raping Isaac_ but Scott isn’t Stiles. He doesn't want to throw it in Isaac’s face, what is going to happen. 

There are dark circles under Argent’s eyes; he looks tired and _old,_ and it’s not just the silver-dominated beard he now sports. But he’s still a hunter, still an alpha and Scott is challenging him in his own house after - well it’s not like he swore loyalty or anything, but close. 

Slowly, Argent uncrosses his arms and moves from where he’s leaning on the doorjamb to stand in the kitchen proper. Every move is unhurried and measured, and there’s a part of Scott that is - not bending, not bowing, but _acknowledging_ he’s made his bed. He’s given his word, to come with Isaac and not challenge. 

Isaac is the one to break the silence. “So only the torture chamber is sound proof?” 

Argent looks pained for a moment, but the tension dissipates, just a little. “There is no torture chamber here, Isaac.” 

From the corner of his eye Scott can see the mulish tilt of Isaac’s head, the twist of his mouth that makes the alpha think Isaac is goading a reaction. “So that’s off the premises, then?” 

“I would rather not discuss torture first thing in the morning, Isaac.” Argent’s voice is surprisingly gentle, low with the weight of the things Scott _knows_ they have to talk about. 

“You know he doesn’t want this.”Scott says. 

Argent sighs and raises a hand, very slowly, to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I am well aware of that, Scott. I also know the only reason you are here is because you _chose_ to come along.” 

Scott remembers what Deaton had said. About - going along with Isaac meaning. Subjecting himself to the Argent family. Like he’s some kind of a - he’s not a fucking _dog_ , he saw the book, he saw the illustrations from the 18th century with the werewolves in collars and leashes, baying for blood. Chris is within his rights now to demand Scott hunts by his side, to keep Isaac safe. To keep Scott’s pack safe. 

There’s a small part of his brain that’s saying they aren't a pack any more, that this has been a dissolution, everything just dust in the wind. Because Scott didn’t bite anyone in his pack, because there are no wolves left outside who’d call him _Alpha_ and mean it. 

Only, he still feels them - feels the tug that is _Stiles_ and the _Lydia_ , the _Derek_ , and even the strange inside-out twist that is feeling _Peter_ at the very edge of his senses. Allison is there, too, like an ember in need of tending, faint and waiting to burst into flame to rival the brightness of his bond with Isaac. 

He doesn’t want to think about how he’s starting to feel _Chris,_ too, and how that bond reminds him more of how he’d first felt towards Peter in the woods than anything else. 

Scott can almost taste the tension in the air, the Alpha pheromones from Argent, Isaac’s fear… except, Isaac no longer smells afraid. It takes Scott a moment to place the smell, unused to it from Isaac, but when he does, he twists to stare at Isaac, just as Argent does. 

Isaac shrugs. “What, I’m not supposed to get wet with two hot alphas posturing over me?” 

***

Two sets of eyes lock onto him and Isaac can feel another flood of heat at the pit of his belly. Yeah he’s definitely wet, the last few minutes of antagonistic tension between his alpha and... his alpha is really working for him. 

The sound Argent makes is not quite a growl as his blue eyes rake over Isaac, the weight of his gaze making his skin tingle. This is how pornos start, Isaac thinks even as he licks his lips, cants his hips. There’s an urge at the back of his skull to turn away, to bare his throat and _present_ , back arched and ass high in the air so whoever wins the fight gets to claim him. 

He almost expects them both to stalk forward, to grab him, to _scent_ him but the way Argent reins himself in is visible, his nostrils flaring even as his shoulders tense and he takes a step back. 

“I came in to let you two know I will be gone for a few hours,” Argent’s voice is rough and low, velvet and sandpaper, and it sends another shiver of pleasure down Isaac’s spine. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth of it wash over him. He’s not too proud to admit that hearing Argent’s thinly veiled that about guns had done nothing to douse his arousal when - 

The memory of Allison sobers him up quickly; Isaac lowers his head and nods, doesn’t look up, doesn’t open his eyes in fear of spilling out fresh tears. 

“I expect you both to behave,” Mr. Argent’s voice is lower, softer, and Isaac hates how it still makes him feel hot all over. “Get this cleaned up, and we’ll discuss further arrangements when I come back.” 

Isaac doesn’t look up until he can hear the front door not quite slamming shut. Scott is there, a concerned frown on his face, but he’s still flushed, still looking at Isaac like - 

“Are you okay?” Scott asks, voice husky and full of concern. He reaches out to cup Isaac’s cheek, and Isaac can’t help it, he leans into the touch and sighs. 

“Y-yeah.” 

“You know you don’t have to - to like it.” 

Isaac licks his lips. “Maybe I like it - like you. You don’t have to be here, either.” 

The air around them grows thick and Isaac can feel the pricking on his skin again, the surge of warmth at the base of his spine. 

“But I want to,” Scott says. 

Isaac doesn’t reply with words but when Scott kisses him he parts his lips, soft and eager. 

***

The camp beds are the best Chris can do for now. It’s close enough to breaking the spirit of the old ways to have Isaac and Scott in Allison’s room, rather than in his own bed, but it is still within the letter. _To dwell in place of the breed-heir._ The thought of just what would have been expected of him, of _Allison_ in the old days is not one he welcomes, so he pushes it firmly aside. 

He tells the boys he doesn't expect hospital corners, but he does expect them to make their bed in the mornings. That there is an equitable division of chores, just like there had been when he’d shared the apartment with his daughter. (He doesn't bring up Victoria, doesn’t bring up the old house.) 

There is no mention of the heavy scent of musk and arousal, the dazed look on Scott’s face, how swollen and slick Isaac’s lips still are. Chris knows that they both know what the consequences are if Scott were to mount Isaac, to deprive Chris of his right - _his duty_ \- to be the first and only to breed the boy. He is not unaffected, but to him self-control has always been paramount, honed by decades of training. Even so, the scent of another alpha, the undeniable knowledge that Scott has had his hands on Isaac is hard to bear. 

He looks at Scott when he curls a broad hand around Isaac’s neck and pulls the omega to him. Scott’s eyes stay stubborn brown even if he tenses visibly when Isaac relaxes against Chris’s chest, his scent wafting up in another warm wave as Chris twines his fingers in the golden curls and tilts the boy’s head to the side. 

Isaac moans oh so prettily when Chris swipes his tongue along pale skin, tasting sweat and excitement, leaving behind raw red marks from his beard as he finds the perfect spot. At the junction of neck and shoulder he bites down hard, hard enough to make Isaac whine high in his throat as Chris worries the flesh in his teeth. 

The mark might not remain in place for long, with the werewolf healing factor. But the memory of it will remain for a long, long time. 

***

It doesn't take long for Isaac to realize he’s starting to show symptoms. His heat isn’t due for another three, maybe four weeks, but the wetness in his boxers when he wakes up tells a different story. His nipples feel achy and raw, and not just because Scott is so fascinated by them, by how easily they plump up under his touch, pebble on his tongue, even if they haven’t really gone past groping and making out. 

Scott could leave marks but doesn’t; he is always so gentle, it almost makes Isaac wanna scream sometimes. He remembers the casual way Mr. Argent manhandled him, the sharp spike of pain from the bite that healed away in minutes, leaving behind a phantom ache. 

Isaac still bares his neck every time they are in the same room; he can smell the satisfaction in the alpha, sees the way his eyes darken in approval. But he hasn’t bitten Isaac again, has casually mentioned how he doesn't want to push. 

But now that Isaac is standing in the shower, two fingers buried inside his aching hole and his heart hammering in his chest he _wants_ to be pushed. He wants more, wants to be filled, wants to - he just _wants_ , okay? The images that flash through him are a mixed jumble, memories of Scott’s soft kisses and Chris’s rough stubble, strong arms gripping his shoulders and gentle hands on his hips. He can feel the arousal bubbling inside him, can feel how his hips are canting at their own volition as he leans against the shower wall, rocking between the fingers in his ass and the tight clutch of his hand.

He doesn't bother being quiet; he knows both his alphas can smell him, can smell exactly what he is doing in here. He doesn’t know, part of him doesn't even care which one of them is going to open the door and - 

Isaac comes with a cry, body clenching hard around his fingers. Even as he pulls them out he can feel another flood of slick, a wave of not-quite dizziness overtaking as he watches his come swirling down the drain. His dick has gone soft, but he thinks it’ll swell up again soon, and there’s no denying how loose his hips feel, how _empty._

The towel is no worse than it has been before, the fancy egyptian cotton better than he’s used to, but it feels rough on his skin. Not unbearable, but another sure sign that he’s not just horny, he’s - 

“Isaac?” It’s Chris’ gruff voice that interrupts his musings. It sends a shiver down his spine and Isaac closes his eyes for a moment before he answers.

“Yes?”

“Are you - are you all right?” 

Isaac swallows hard. There is no denying what's gonna happen now. Peter had been _very_ explicit in describing both the old treaty and the consequences of what will happen if they don’t follow this to the letter. There are a lot of people with grudges out there who’d take advantage of a breach to swoop in and start shooting. It’s Isaac’s first heat - or maybe a pseudo heat, but he doesn’t know if that matters, just knows he probably counts as _ripe_ \- and he’s going to bend over and get bred. 

The idea shouldn’t make him flood with slick but it does, he’s getting wetter, feeling emptier by the minute. He closes his eyes and drops the towel.

“Isaac, I am going to open the door.” Chris warns him, and Isaac can’t help it, he whines high in his throat the moment the door parts a fraction and the scent of _alpha_ floods his senses. His nipples harden further as the cool air hits them, high and tight on his chest as he bares his neck for his alpha. 

***

Chris holds back a curse as he watches Isaac bare his neck. He fights the urge to just stalk forward and _claim_ right then and there, to take advantage of isaac’s nudity and take him on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. 

Isaac is _gorgeous_ , pale skin stretched over lean muscle, wet golden curls framing the face of an angel, and even though the blue eyes are closed for now, Chris knows they will be dilated, almost all of the blue swallowed by black in arousal. Because Isaac is aroused, the heavy scent of his slick, his _heat_ filling up the small room. 

Behind him there’s a crash; Chris spins around teeth bared even though he knows there is only one person it can be, that the scent of another alpha is already telling him it’s Scott. 

Scott is not wolfed out but his eyes glow red; his bare chest is heaving and Chris can plainly see how the boy’s erection is already straining his shorts. There’s a soft gleam of sweat on Scott’s skin and even as intent as he is on breeding Isaac, Chris can’t help but imagine putting his tongue in the dips of the young alpha’s hips, making him squirm. Beg. _Submit._

With deliberate slowness, he turns back to Isaac; Isaac’s eyes are wide and just as lust-blown as he’d thought, the boy’s body shivering with tension. When Chris’s eyes met his, Isaac shudders almost violently and the scent of his wetness grows stronger, a bead of slick running down the inside of his knee.

Fuck, Chris wants to put his mouth on him. On them both. 

“Come here, Isaac,” he says quietly. 

Isaac obeys, taking small, tentative steps out of the bathroom. Chris doesn’t move out of the way, doesn't take his eyes off Isaac but keeps Scott at the periphery of his vision. If the boy gets out of hand, he has a lot of steps he can take, precautions he’s made, but the knowledge that Scott Mccall is a werewolf _true_ Alpha is why Chris hasn't gone for the horse tranquilizers already. 

Isaac folds against his body like someone cut his strings, needy moans spilling from his lips as he starts to rub himself against Chris’ still clothed body. The denim should be harsh against the boy’s sensitive skin but Isaac doesn't seem to care, pink cock leaving trails of precome all over Chris’ jeans. 

Chris is far from unaffected, but he’s pretty certain he’s not going into full blown rut here even as he wraps his arms around Isaac, grips the boy’s slim hips with his hands. 

“Isaac,” he says, voice soft but loud enough for scott to hear without straining. “I - we are going to take you to bed now. Do you understand?” 

Isaac nods frantically, burying his face in Chris’ neck and inhaling deeply. The answer, a mumbled _yes, alpha_ is almost inaudible. 

But it’s loud enough to make Scott growl. 

***

Scott’s vision swims red as he watches Isaac catting against Chris - watches _his_ omega rub against another alpha, rub his scent all over Chris. His nose is full of the scent of a ripe omega, of slick and heat, something he instinctively recognizes even though he’s never experienced it before, never experienced _anything_ like this before. 

Mingled with Isaac’s enticement is the strong, almost harsh scent of another alpha, of Chris, a scent Scott thought he’d become inured to in the past few days but he’s not - it riles him up further, makes his hackles rise, his dick harder. 

Chris looks him straight in the eye and Scott finds himself fighting the urge to flinch, to bare his teeth in response, to - to challenge. Even with the lust coursing through his veins, he’s still aware enough to know he can’t, that if he does, all of their lives will be forfeit. 

“Lead the way, Scott,” Chris says in that low register Scott doesn’t know what to associate with any more, just knows it makes his heartbeat speed up, his mouth go dry. “We’re taking him to bed.” 

To Chris’ bed. Scott knows that’s the only way this is going to happen, that there's no way they’ll do this in - he pushes the thought aside with ruthlessness he doesn't know he possesses and nods, not trusting himself to speak. 

It is hard, so hard to turn his back to Isaac and Chris, as if he were trying to push through mountain ash again. But he does it. He turns away and goes to the door, down the hall, to where the door to Chris’ bedroom is already - not fully closed. 

He pushes it all the way open and steps inside. He’s never been in here before but it’s just a room, the bed made with military precision. On the bedside table, there are two photos and that’s where Scott goes first, picking up the heavy silver frames and turning them away from the bed. Because he can’t do this with - can’t do this with Allison and her mom looking on. 

“Thank you,” Chris says with unexpected softness form behind him and Scott turns around to look at him, to look at Isaac. 

Chris has Isaac in his arms, bridal carry style, Isaac’s face still buried in his neck to hide the needy little whimpers. LIke this, Scott can see a trail of slick between Isaac’s legs, the backs of his thighs shiny with it and the sight of it takes his breath away. 

“Get on the bed, Scott.” Chris’ words surprise him. Scott doesn’t know what he expected, though - he’s been afraid that when the time would come he’d be chained up somewhere, locked up, unable to help Isaac, to protect him, to _touch_ him. Even now he thought maybe Chris would tell him to go sit in the chair, to keep quiet and just watch helplessly - not get on the bed. 

Chris voice is sharper now. “I do not want to repeat myself, Scott. On the bed.” 

“Yes, alpha,” Scott says and his eyes widen at the salutation that passed his lips. But it is accurate, under the terms of this - thing, Chris is his alpha as much as he hates to admit it. 

Chris rumbles with satisfaction as Scott scampers on the bed, sitting up against the headboard: he’s flushed, and part of him wants to pull up his knees to try to hide just how affected he is. How hard, how his boxers are already soaked through with precome. 

“Good boy.” Chris smirks when he walks up to the bed, helps Isaac on his hands and knees, facing Scott. 

Scott can’t tear his eyes away from Isaac. He’s never before been this close to an omega in heat, has never before seen anyone like this, seen _Isaac_ like this. So full of want and begging to be knotted, the ripe, heady scent clinging to his every breath as Isaac sways closer, so close he’s almost in Scott’s lap. 

“Go ahead,” Chris’ voice is smug; in his peripheral vision, Scott can see Chris is pulling off his shirt, and wow, even when faced with Isaac in heat Scott can’t help but gasp at the sight. He’d thought under all the layers there’d be - not this, not pure wiry muscle, a smattering of silver hair and scars that shouldn’t make Scott’s mouth water, shouldn’t make his dick throb. 

The next words surprise him. 

“You can kiss.”

Scott surges forward to meet Isaac’s hungry lips without a moment's hesitation. 

** 

Isaac feels like he can’t breathe, like wrapping himself around Scott, going pliant under Scott’s devouring kisses is too much, but it’s not enough. He tries to pull Scott closer, but he can’t move his arms, his hands pinned to the bed by the iron grip on his wrists. 

He feels like he is burning from the inside out, the heady scent of _alpha_ \- of _alphas_ filling his nose, so thick he can taste it in Scott’s insistent kisses, with every lungful of heated air. He’s been having heats since he was twelve, but this is the first time he’s - first time he’s been _touched_ , first time he’s going to be bred. 

The bed dips and Isaac keens, breaking away from the kiss when he arches his back, tries to hitch his hips higher, splay his legs wider. He can feel the slick running down his legs, dripping from the inside of his knee to soak into the soft sheets. 

“So good,” Chris’ hoarse voice scrapes over Isaac’s nerves, leaving fire in its wake. “You’re such a good boy, Isaac.” 

Isaac whines when Chris touches him, broad palms hot on his hips. For a moment he feels almost _trapped_ between the two alphas, between Scott’s grip of his wrists and the hunter’s heavy hands. But only for a moment - Chris’s thumbs stroke over the top of his ass, teasing, sending another wave of heat through his body, another flood of slick pooling in his hole and Isaac only _wants._

“So good,” Scott echoes Chris’ words, leaning forward to touch their foreheads together. Isaac opens his eyes - when did he close them? - and stares at Scott, his fervent breathing filling his lungs with alpha musk, with warmth and _Scott._

__****_ _

__Chris inhales deeply at the sight of Scott's tongue lapping at Isaac’s slack lips, both of their mouths red and kiss-swollen. He thinks about that tongue elsewhere, thinks about those mouths wrapped around his cock, sliding in just the tip for them to kiss around. _Later_. _ _

__Isaac’s heat-slick skin is intoxicating and Chris groans when he slides his hands over Isaac’s ass, spreading the pale flesh to reveal the boy’s pink hole, wet and inviting. Part of him wants to rear up and shuck off his jeans, to drive his cock into Isaac and knot him, but he’s not in a rut yet, and he still has the presence of mind to acknowledge that his gorgeous creature in his bed is a virgin omega in his first proper heat._ _

__Chris chuckles when Isaac moans, trying to tilt his hips further, to push into Chris’ touch. Chris leans forward and takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with Isaac's omega arousal. Scott’s scent on him is a surprisingly pleasing counterpoint, strong but not harsh. Not an intrusion or a threat._ _

__Isaac yowls at the first touch of Chris’ tongue on his wet hole, lapping up the shiny slick. The taste is intoxicating and Isaac trembles under his hands as Chris runs his tongue over heated, swollen flesh, his beard rubbing the skin raw time and time again even as Isaac squirms and wails, desire ratcheting higher._ _

__Chris can easily slide two fingers into Isaac and lick between them, push his tongue into the omega’s rippling hole. He could do this for hours, used to - has done it before, but he knows Isaac _needs_ to be knotted, needs to be bred. _ _

__He flicks his eyes over Isaac’s pale back and sees Scott staring over the boy’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around Isaac to hold him in place. He’s lifted his other hand to brush away tears from Isaac’s face, the fingers glistening when he wipes them on the sheets. Scott’s eyes are glued to where Chris’s fingers disappear into Isaac’s body, where his tongue has left streaks of drying spit on his skin._ _

__Isaac whines when Chris pulls his fingers out with one last lick to the boy’s leaking hole. He lifts his hand, holds his fingers covered in Isaac’s slick right in front ot Scott. The young alpha has to only lean forward a fraction to get a taste, nostrils flaring from the scent._ _

__“Go on,” Chris encourages, voice low and raspy. His tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, still coated with Isaac's arousal._ _

__Scott surges forward, wrapping a hand around Chris’ wrist, pulling the hand to his mouth and moaning eagerly. Again, Chris thinks about putting that mouth to a better use as Scott's tongue twines around his fingers, tries to chase every last trace of Isaac, sucking the digits into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth._ _

__When Chris pulls his hand away Scott _whines_ and looks surprised at himself, dark eyes widening almost comically. Chris laughs softly and reaches out to brush a sweat-soaked curl from Scott’s face. “That’s it,” he says softly. _ _

__Between them, Isaac squirms impatiently. “ _Alpha_ ,” he whines, “Either one, I’m - “ he shudders and gasps, “Not picky - ” _ _

__That Isaac’s bratty streak would show when he is in heat doesn't surprise Chris. He knows better than to spank the omega for it, instead he moves to twine his fingers into Isaac’s hair, to yank his head to the side so he can trace lips and tongue over the tendons of his throat before he bites down hard._ _

__Isaac wails and thrashes, but he’s held snug between Chris and Scott, both sets of hands now covering the squirming omega as Chris starts to nip a path down Isaac’s spine, nipping and licking at the too-pronounced knobs._ _

__There’s a slurping sound and Chris looks up to see that Scott is licking Isaac’s neck, tracing the marks Chris’ teeth left with his mouth but not biting, not trying to replace. Maybe it’s the wolf alpha’s touch, but the marks aren’t healing as fast as they should, still standing livid on Isaac’s pale skin. Dark satisfaction surges inside Chris, a bolt of heat rushing down his spine to pool at his crotch. He’s so fucking hard, he can feel precome staining the denim already, and thinks if he’s this close to his tether, then Scott must be in agony._ _

__Just then their hands meet over the flat planes of Isaac’s stomach, Scott’s hands trailing down from pinching the plump nipples, Chris’ nails raking softly over Isaac’s ribs. Chris takes hold of Scott’s hand as he looks up, looks Scott in the eye when he slowly draws their joined hands down to where Isaac’s slim cock nestles amidst blond curls._ _

__“Gonna make sure you can take me” Chris says almost conversationally as their fingers wrap around Isaac. Both Isaac and Scott are trembling, breath coming in hitched pants. Isaac’s eyes are closed and he’s swaying on his knees while Scott’s eyes flick between Isaac’s upturned face and Chris’._ _

__“Come for us, baby,” he urges Isaac quietly, “Give it up.”_ _

Mere moments later, Isaac’s breath catches in his throat just as Scott’s palm cups the head of his dick and he comes with a wild, inhuman noise, thrashing in their hold. Chris can smell the flood of come, the flood of slick as Isaac’s empty hole convulses around nothing, knows the omega’s hunger for being knotted is fever-bright by now. 

__He pulls his hand away and wipes the thin white splatter on Isaac’s neck, on top of the bite marks. Scott stares at it, mouth hanging open and for a moment Chris wonders if Scott came in his pants but there’s no acrid smell of alpha spunk in the air._ _

__Slowly, Scott pulls his own hand up and brings it to Isaac’s lips. The omega laps at his own come eagerly, moaning around the fingers even before Scott leans in to share the taste, licking and sucking on Isaac’s mouth just as much as he is on his own fingers._ _

__Again, Chris is reminded of how much he wants those mouths on his cock and knows he needs to fuck Isaac _now.__ _

__He groans in relief when he undoes the fly of his jeans, his cock springing free already sticky with precome. He shoves the denim off the rest of the way and kneels up behind Isaac, steadying himself with a hand on the omega's hip._ _

__Isaac is a gorgeous sight; his long, lean body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, long legs splayed to reveal his dripping hole in perfect lordosis, ass up high and back arched to show both his ass and neck, scent deep and alluring. The fact that he’s nestled against Scott, the young alpha’s dark musk mingling in with Isaac’s sweetness, only makes it better, makes them _both_ his. _ _

__“Hold him, Scott,” he says, voice dangerously soft._ _

__“Yes, Alpha,” Scott breathes and Chris can see how Scott adjusts his hold, how Isaac’s arms around Scott’s waist grip tighter. How Scott’s eyes flash red when he lowers his eyes._ _

__Chris runs a hand over Isaac’s thigh, hisses when he slicks his cock up quickly, the stimulation after so long almost too much. He knows he won’t last long, not when he can already feel the faint stirrings of his knot coming in._ _

__Isaac is running hot, a werewolf in heat and the way he feels against the tip of Chris’ cock is obscene, slick and hot, his hole mouthing at the tip trying to pull it in. Before he can stop himself, Chris’ hips jerk forward, sliding in just the tip._ _

__“Just the tip, baby,” Chris says roughly. “Are you ready for my cock, Isaac? Are you ready for my knot?”_ _

__Isaac whines brokenly, body trembling all over, and Chris can feel more slick pooling at the tip of his cock. There’s a hitch in Isaac’s breath, a soft gasp from Scott and then Isaac gets the words out._ _

__“Please, Alpha.. give it to me. _Knot me._ ”_ _

__With a growl more befitting a werewolf, Chris cleaves into Isaac._ _

__*****_ _

__Isaac’s eyes are black pools of lust and Scott can’t tear his gaze away._ _

__The omega is gasping and moaning, face slack with pleasure as Chris drives into him, broad hands clutching his hips hard enough for bruises to bloom and heal and darken again and all Scott can do is to hang on for dear life. He can taste Isaac in the air, can taste Chris. The air is heavy with pheromones and sweat, the sweet tang of Isaac’s slick and alpha musk._ _

__Scott fights the urge to hitch his hips up, to rub his still-clothed cock against Isaac’s chest, heedless of the chafe of soaked through fabric. He’s so hard it hurts, he can feel it, feel how his knot is already bulging out a little even though he hasn’t touched himself at all._ _

__He meets Chris’ eyes over Isaac’s shoulder; the startling near-supernatural blue takes his breath away and Scott instinctively tilts his head, bares his neck. The hunter looks surprised for a split second before he growls an surges forward, grabbing Scott by the hair bad pulling him into a hungry kiss._ _

__It’s nothing like any kiss he’s ever had before, the scent of another alpha filling his nose, the harsh bristle of Chris’ beard against his cheeks. Scott moans into the kiss, his hold on Isaac tightening as Chris systematically takes him apart, bringing Scott to the brink of popping his knot in his boxers without a hand on him. It’s like Chris _knows_ , because that’s when he pulls away, lets go of Scott’s hair. _ _

__Breathless and lips tingling with beard burn, Scott feels almost helpless watching Chris fuck into Isaac, watching the omega arch up and keen deep in his throat, the mixture of _and _pleases_ blurring into unintelligible wails. Scott lets go of Isaac, hands coming to clutch the sheets as his vision flashes red, terrified that he’s going to pop his claws and not his knot and hurt Isaac. __ _

___“Gonna knot you now, Isaac,” Chris’ voice is velvet-rough and Scott echoes Isaac’s whimper. “Gonna pump you full of my come, breed you up. Lock you tight, make sure it takes.”_ _ _

___Chris’s hips still and Scott swears he can tell the moment the alpha pops his knot - Isaac’s eyes widen but no sound comes from him, his entire body going taut like a b - going taut. Isaac’s cock stands up against his belly, drooling precome and it makes Scott think of the pornos he’s seen, only if this was a porno with two alphas and an omega he’d be knotting Isaac’s mouth now, not thinking about -_ _ _

___Scott leans forward to take isaac in his mouth just in time, getting his mouth full of Isaac’s watery come. He swallows it eagerly as Isaac moans and writhes on Chris’ knot, the feel of it flexing on his tongue amazing._ _ _

___There’s a hand on his hair, too big to be Isaac’s._ _ _

___“Good boy,” Chris’ is finally out of breath, voice strained as he speaks. “Stay just like that, take care of Isaac until I can pull out.”_ _ _

___Scott’s eyes flick up to Isaac’s face; Isaac is looking down on him with an expression of utter wonder and Scott decides right now there's nowhere he’d rather be. Even though there's a part of him that’s desperate to come, even though he realizes his hips are hunching into the mattress even now at this awkward angle, he wants to make this good for Isaac._ _ _

___Isaac pets his hair clumsily, lips moving but there are no words coming out; Scott reaches to take his hand and squeezes it in wordless assurance. He’s okay with this, okay with holding Isaac in his mouth, swallowing the weak spurts of fluid when Isaac whines and trembles again._ _ _

___It feels like an eternity and a blink until Chris pulls away from Isaac with a groan. Isaac shudders, and the scent in the air changes. Scott whines, his cock throbbing and he looks up at Chris, looks at the hunter who is smiling softly._ _ _

___Without a word, Chris cups Scott’s cheek and pulls him gently away from Isaac. Together they lay Isaac down on his side, and it looks like Isaac is only minutes away from passing out cold._ _ _

___Scott doesn’t expect what happens next, doesn't expect Chris to pull him close, to yank off his ruined shorts and practically pull him into his lap so he’s straddling the hunter’s thigh._ _ _

___“You’ve been so good, Scott,” Chris rumbles, cupping Scott’s cheek and kissing him surprisingly tenderly. “Go on, take what you need.”_ _ _

___And Scott has never even thought about this, never thought about having sex with another alpha, rutting against someone strong and solid and not soft and pliant, but his sense are full on overload after everything, he’s still full of the scent and taste of Isaac, and he’s been hard for so long -_ _ _

___He throws his arms around Chris, buries his face in the alpha’s neck as his hips move frantically, chasing friction. Chris’ thigh is like iron between his, hard muscle and crisp hair rubbing against his cock and Scott is so overstimulated he’s gonna come, he’s gonna -_ _ _

___Scott sobs when his knot finally pops, when release hits him like a tidal wave. He shudders through his orgasm, Chris’ hands soothing along his sweat-slick back, holding him upright as the alpha murmurs softly, reassuringly, the words a white noise in Scott’s ears._ _ _

___He feels like he’s floating, like his bones have turned to lead, almost as out of it as Isaac when Chris helps him lie down, right next to the omega. But when Chris straightens up and turns around as though to leave, both Scott and Isaac speak up._ _ _

___“Stay. Please.”_ _ _

___**_ _ _

___Chris stays._ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> The ancient treaty states that since the pack is responsible for Allison being unable to carry on the Argent line, they must provide a replacement virgin omega to bear children or else they become targets for hunters, same if Chris refuses to accept one. Isaac goes as the only omega in the pack, and Scott chooses to follow him, in the process subjecting himself to Argent rule under old traditions. There are several conditions as to where things have to happen and when, and once Isaac goes into heat Chris takes both him and Scott in bed with him, but he is also doing it under duress.


End file.
